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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24788443">Philautia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here/pseuds/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here'>I_Shouldnt_Be_Here</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love is known as... [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>'Philautia' means love for the self, Based on the types of love found in ancient Greek literature, M/M, Poetry, Romance, Self-Esteem, Self-Esteem Issues, just woke up in a poetry mood don't come at me, this is a long two part poem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24788443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here/pseuds/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A few moments from Shankar and Aman Tripathi's life.<br/>Kartik is determined to make Aman love himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love is known as... [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Philautia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hubris- Excessive pride or self confidence<br/>Self esteem- confidence in one's own worth or abilities<br/>'Self love' has two avatars, doesn't it?<br/>Go a little slow, feel free to dip your foot between the lines...<br/>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> Part-I (Hubris) </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Shankar Tripathi was a marionette<br/>
Tangled with other marionettes<br/>
Above, below, left, right<br/>
In his wooden left- His wife<br/>
In his wooden right- His son<br/>
He refused to see<br/>
Or maybe could not<br/>
See the strings above him.</p><p>After years of watering<br/>
The landmine-field of science<br/>
He created a plant<br/>
As a testament to his godly powers<br/>
That black plant became<br/>
The millstone around his neck<br/>
He refused to feel<br/>
Or maybe could not<br/>
Feel the weight of that millstone.</p><p>He had a young woman lover<br/>
Who pressed dopamine kisses on his skin<br/>
He married an old woman wife<br/>
Whom he could not see with desirous eyes<br/>
She, a piece of floating driftwood<br/>
Danced woodenly, awkwardly<br/>
Into his wood-puppet schemes<br/>
He refused to give<br/>
Or maybe could not<br/>
Give the love his wife needed.</p><p>He had a little boy son<br/>
Who terrified Shankar since birth<br/>
That boy stole words off books<br/>
And built a stolen home for himself<br/>
His puppet strings were slippery<br/>
What Shankar could not subdue<br/>
He sought to ruthlessly control<br/>
He refused to understand<br/>
Or maybe could not<br/>
Understand the son he created.</p><p>The little boy grew into a man<br/>
Frayed at his father's strings<br/>
With word-scissors and vitriol<br/>
Or with blades of crystallised silence<br/>
Shankar threw his last punch<br/>
"Arranged marriage" was the name<br/>
He refused to yield<br/>
Or maybe could not<br/>
Yield to his son and his lover.</p><p>His son's lover was fiesty<br/>
He beat him not into submission<br/>
He thought his lathi would<br/>
Bleed the rainbow out of their love<br/>
He was wrong for the second time in his life<br/>
His hubris cracked and shattered<br/>
He refused to accept<br/>
Or maybe could not<br/>
Accept his terrible mistake.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> Part-II (Self-Esteem) </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Two decades and a half ago<br/>
A tiny brown child arrived<br/>
The extended family gave an extended sigh<br/>
"This face could only be loved by a mother."</p><p>A brown face peeked out of<br/>
A snow white swaddling blanket<br/>
His family was peaches grown with milk<br/>
He was the brown earth below.</p><p>The child was struck with jealousy<br/>
"Snow white sister" and "walnut brother"<br/>
He complained, "How long can you<br/>
Keep a boy out of the sun?"</p><p>Angled glances and twisted words 'spoken'<br/>
Belied the belonging he found<br/>
In the words 'written'<br/>
Being different had a different burden.</p><p>He watched movie screens with starry eyes<br/>
Would they have space for dark-skinned<br/>
Queer boys, when they didn't have space<br/>
For dark-skinned queer gods?</p><p>Two and a half decades later<br/>
The same thoughts hit him<br/>
From the scummy mirror<br/>
Of a small Delhi bathroom.</p><p>His gaze wandered left and right<br/>
To 'flesh' coloured band aids<br/>
To a footprint shaped depression<br/>
In a chappal, filled with white soapwater.</p><p>He scrubbed at his darker parts furiously<br/>
Elbows, knees, backs-of-thighs<br/>
Because they were dirty<br/>
They were dirty, weren't they?</p><p>With every furious scrub<br/>
'Shame' and 'affirmation' fought<br/>
An unrelenting battle in his head<br/>
Who needed warring nations?</p><p>'Good' words, 'positive' words, 'happy' words<br/>
Hammered, killed and murdered<br/>
His useless body-soldier got dressed<br/>
His mind was a bloody battlefield of words.</p><p>His lover saw him, stomach down<br/>
Hiding face in a pillow<br/>
An hour passed in shared silence<br/>
Pink lips pressed biscuit-coloured kisses.</p><p>Onto elbows, knees, backs-of-thighs<br/>
Saying, "Beautiful, I want you to<br/>
Love yourself, even when I'm not here<br/>
Especially when I'm not here."<br/>
...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In my head, Aman has much darker skin, okay?<br/>The dark skinned queer god in here is Krishna. He is white-washed and blue-washed in almost all art works.<br/>Have a good day/night!<br/>Kudos and comments make my day!<br/>-Advaita</p></blockquote></div></div>
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